


Perfect

by VampAmber



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Angst, Bad Parenting, Canon Compliant, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Childhood Trauma, Dean Has Self-Esteem Issues, Dean Has Self-Worth Issues, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Heavy Angst, I need a hug now, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Insults, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Pre-Series, Protective Dean Winchester, Song Lyrics, Songfic, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 12:30:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11402436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampAmber/pseuds/VampAmber
Summary: A songfic based on the songPerfectby Simple Plan.Dean always tried to live up to John's expectations. He wanted nothing more than to be daddy's perfect soldier. John set the bar impossibly high, high enough that even he couldn't reach it, but that never once stopped him from belittling Dean for not reaching it himself.





	Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> For those that don't know the song or want to hear it again, [ here's the link to the official video on YouTube.](https://youtu.be/RUi54JTgL5s)  
>    
> Based off the song _Perfect_ by Simple Plan.
> 
> I have literally no idea how to make a fan music video, but this song works so damn well for Dean's relationship with John. So, I wrote it as a songfic instead.
> 
> This is my first songfic ever, so I apologize in advance if it didn't come out as well as I'd hoped. *fingers crossed* Here's hoping.

_Hey, Dad, look at me_

“It's going to be alright, Dean, everything’s going to be just fine,” John Winchester said to his four year old son curled up tightly in his lap. The fire engines roared in the background, and his infant son was crying in confusion, and nothing would ever be okay again but he had to lie. Times like these, the truth was unwanted, was too much. Lying was the only option.

_Think back, and talk to me  
Did I grow up according to plan?_

Dean was young, too young to be learning to use a gun. But they were hunters now, and the monsters wouldn’t care what his age was, they’d just try to kill him. So John tried to explain how to aim properly. He had to adjust the way he taught Dean, though, because the gun was too big for his tiny hands.

_And do you think I'm wasting my time  
Doing things I want to do?_

“But Dad, all the other kids in my class get to go to the party. Why can’t I?” Dean whined. They’d only been in this town for a few weeks, but he already had an invitation to a birthday party. It was actually the first time he could remember being invited to one, and he desperately wanted to go.

“I already said no, Dean, and that’s final,” John said grumpily as he cleaned yet another one of their guns.

“Please?” He begged in a drawn out wail. Every single other child in Mrs. Jones’ first grade class would be there, and he was already weird compared to everybody else. This would just make things worse.

“I said no!” John shouted, loud enough to wake up little Sammy from his nap. Dean was on the edge of tears, but he knew that crying would only make his father angrier so he sniffled a few times to hold them in. “Now go take care of your little brother,” John said, effectively ending any further discussion on the subject.

It ended up not mattering anyway, because they left town the day after the party.

_But it hurts when you disapproved all along_

“You need to be faster,” John said as he looked at the tin cans, each with a bullet hole through the center. “All the accuracy in the world won’t save you if you’re too slow.”

“Sorry, sir,” Dean said softly as he reloaded the gun in his hands. He tried to hide the tremble of his fingers, and since John didn’t yell at him over it, he must’ve been successful.

“Now try again,” John said as he lined up new cans on the fence post. “And this time, I want you done in half the time.”

“But…” Dean started. Half the time? That was impossible!

"And I don’t want to hear another word out of you,” John growled.

"Sorry, sir,” Dean mumbled as he lifted the gun to take aim.

_And now I try hard to make it  
I just want to make you proud_

Dean held up the paper target excitedly. Every single shot had been in the center. His dad would have to admit he did good this time, he just had to. “Look, sir,” he said, not able to help himself.

“You should’ve been neater,” John told him. “Wouldn’t waste so many damn bullets that way.”

Dean visibly deflated. He walked over to where his little brother was sitting, playing with a few cheap dollar store toys Dean had shoplifted for him in the last town.

“Lemme see,” Sam said, reaching for the paper in Dean’s hand. Dean sighed and handed it over. “All in the middle,” Sam said proudly. “Wow.”

“Should’ve been neater,” Dean repeated John’s words as the man himself left the room to do god only knew what.

Sam shook his head. “It’s still really good.” He looked up at Dean, five years of hero worship shining in his eyes.

“Yeah, maybe a little,” he finally admitted. Sam hugged him, and he finally smiled a little.

_I'm never gonna be good enough for you_

“You almost let him get away!” John yelled, not even caring if he woke up the entire motel complex, he was so angry.

“I didn’t know there was two!” Dean shouted back in defense.

“That’s no excuse!” John roared. “I taught you better than that, Dean. At least, I thought I did, but I guess you’re too damn dumb to learn.”

“Sorry, sir,” Dean whispered, all the fight pouring out of him faster than a popped balloon.

“Next time, try a little harder to not get killed,” John said as he slammed the Impala’s door in anger.

“Of course, sir,” Dean said, feeling broken inside.

_You can't pretend that I'm alright  
And you can't change me_

“What are you, a little girl? Man up and quit crying, Dean,” John said impatiently as he drove to the nearest hospital. “It’s only a broken bone.” Dean dried his eyes with his uninjured hand and tried not to look at his left arm, afraid that if he saw the piece of bone sticking out of his skin he might start crying again.

There were four separate breaks, and Dean was stuck in a cast for a few months, much to John’s disappointment. He had stared at the wall in the ER, ignoring the doctors and nurses who kept marveling over an eleven year old boy not crying when he had to be in so much pain. Can’t cry because John said he couldn’t.

He was stuck on babysitting duty until he lost the cast, and had to do all the research for each case, as well. Sam helped where he could, but Dean always tried to make sure his little brother couldn’t hear their dad whenever he came back and lectured Dean for being so worthless and incompetent. Without Dean to slow him down, John came back to the hotel room more often than not reeking of cheap booze and slurring his words slightly. Dean always accepted every insult his father threw at him, sober or not, because he knew they were all true. He would have to try harder from now on.

_'Cause we lost it all_  
_Nothin' lasts forever_  
_I'm sorry I can't be perfect_

Another failed case, and it was all Dean’s fault. He hadn’t thought to check in the basement until it was too late. Between the two of them, they’d managed to take out the three vampires, but there was a pile of dead bodies, drained of blood, and each of those deaths were all Dean’s fault. John was so angry that when he dropped Dean off at the motel, he didn’t come back for almost a week. When Sam asked where he had been and if he’d been on a case, he’d snapped at them and left again. When he came back that night, he was drunker than Dean had ever seen him. He even passed out at the table instead of heading to bed, he was so bad off. And it was all Dean’s fault. John made sure he understood that.

John always made sure Dean understood that.

_Now it's just too late_  
_And we can't go back_  
_I'm sorry I can't be perfect_

Marcus had been joining them for hunts a lot lately. His daughter had been killed by a wendigo on a camping trip a few years back, and he wanted to kill as many monsters as possible to avenge her. He thought it was an appropriate tribute in her memory.

But he wouldn’t be adding to the tribute ever again. Dean stared down at the corpse in front of him, the one that used to be a person named Marcus. It was a wendigo that took him out, too. The lighter wouldn’t click, Dean had been fumbling with it when the wendigo had struck. John was off making sure it was dead, but all Dean could do was stare at the corpse.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, even though Marcus would never hear anything ever again.

_I try not to think  
About the pain I feel inside_

“Worthless piece of shit!” John repeated, before slamming the motel door behind him.

Dean could feel the tears sliding down his cheeks. The rest of him felt numb, fuzzy, but those two hot, wet trails stood out. He shouldn’t be crying. He didn't even understand why he was crying, they’d had arguments like this all the time. But here he was, staring blankly at the door as tears streamed down his face.

“Dean?” Sam asked, coming up behind him. He’d been in the bathroom, probably hiding, but the walls here were paper thin so he’d definitely heard it all. “Are you okay?”

Dean nodded, trying to be strong. He had to be strong for Sammy. But his mouth whispered a tiny “No” without his permission, and that was all it took. His legs crumbled beneath him, and if Sam hadn’t been so strong from the hunter training John constantly forced on them, they both would’ve fallen in a heap on the floor.

“He’s an ass hole, just ignore him,” Sam said as he dragged Dean the few feet to the bed. “You’re a way better hunter than him, and he’s probably just jealous.”

“No, he’s right,” Dean got out through the sobs. He was fifteen, almost legally an adult. He shouldn’t be bawling like a baby because his daddy said a few mean things.

“That’s bullshit and you know it, Dean,” Sam said. “You're a better hunter, a better person, than he will ever be.”

Dean didn’t have it in him to argue. He just curled up on the bed, and for possibly the first time ever, let Sam take care of him. His little brother pulled off his boots and tucked him in. He brought him a glass of water, and sat with him until he passed out. Dean didn’t deserve any of it.

_Did you know you used to be my hero?_

Everything Dean did was to live up to his father’s expectations at this point. John was letting him go on solo hunts now and Dean wanted to be as good as his father. In the hunting world, the name John Winchester meant something. Dean knew it was a pipedream, but he liked to hope that someday people would talk about his own exploits with as much awe as they talked about his dad’s. He tried his hardest to be like him in every way he could. He wore the same kind of clothes, drank the same kind of booze (thankfully, his fake ID was good enough that he was never questioned at the liquor stores and bars he went to), did everything he could to emulate him. He had a legacy to live up to, after all.

_All the days you spent with me_  
_Now seem so far away_  
_And it feels like you don't care any more_

Sam was gone. Headed off to Stanford a few weeks ago. John had stayed for a little bit, but then he’d headed off, too, leaving Dean his jacket, the Impala, and a long winded lecture about how he’d better not screw up, because John was sick of cleaning up after him.

Most of the phone calls Dean made to him went unanswered. Even when it was for a case, it always ended up being a game of phone tag. I leave you a message, you leave me a message in response. Sometimes, Dean had to stop himself from calling Sam just so that he could hear a real voice instead of a recorded message. But Sam had deserted him, and no way was Dean going to be the first one to make a move there. Let him pretend to be normal.

Dean didn’t need anyone.

_And now I try hard to make it_  
_I just want to make you proud_  
_I'm never gonna be good enough for you_

Dean was afraid to check his messages. He’d barely made it out of that place alive, and hadn’t made it far in the Impala before he had to stop and pass out in the back seat. He knew it was a bad idea to sleep when he had a concussion, but everything on the road was too blurry to drive and there was no way he was gonna risk crashing his Baby just to go to a stupid hospital.

He woke up about fourteen hours later, though, parked in an otherwise empty parking lot, so it wasn’t the stupidest mistake he’d ever made. No, that was last night. He had no idea what those things were, but they were fast and there was a lot of them. Enough that he knew at least three had escaped, probably more. He also knew his dad was in the area, and with that much of a head start he’d probably already met them. They were talkative little shits, too, so they would most likely blab about escaping from a Winchester. He may not be as well known as his dad, but his last name definitely was.

The message light blinked on his cell phone, and he really did not want to hear any of them.

_I can't stand another fight  
And nothing's all right_

It was the same song and dance every time John showed up. Lecture Dean about all the stupid mistakes he’d made since the last time, then yell at him more if he dared tried to defend himself. The reasons why never mattered, only the mistakes. He didn’t kill the werewolf because he was trying to protect the family? Doesn’t matter, because the werewolf was still alive. The ghost’s remains were literally impossible to find because there were no grave markers? He should’ve tried harder.

Dean just nodded, apologizing whenever it seemed appropriate. There was no point in trying to say anything else. It would only make things worse.

_'Cause we lost it all_  
_And nothin' lasts forever_  
_I'm sorry I can't be perfect_

Bodies. Bodies of all the people he couldn’t save. All those mistakes, piling up in his nightmares, drowning him in a sea of blood. Dean spent a fair amount of money on alcohol, because whiskey was one of the only things that helped keep the nightmares at bay. It didn’t always work, but it was better than nothing.

_Now it's just too late_  
_And we can't go back_  
_I'm sorry I can't be perfect_

It was Dean’s fault that Sam left. John made sure to remind him of that fact every chance he got. If Dean had been better behaved, if he had been better at protecting people, Sam would’ve never deserted them. Dean should’ve been a model soldier, but he’d failed at that, just like he failed at everything.

He’d just have to try harder. He had no other option. Had to be the perfect soldier. Had to be.

_Nothing's gonna change the things that you said_

“Worthless!”

“Incompetent!”

“Stupid!”

“Fuck up!”

“No good”

“Shitty excuse for a hunter!”

“Disappointment!”

“Never gonna be good enough!”

_And nothing's gonna make this right again_

Dean could never talk about his childhood with normal people. Nobody ever understood. They’d hear about the hotel rooms, or the combat training, or about him taking care of Sammy on his own for weeks on end even though he was still a kid himself, and they would be shocked. They never understood, so he finally stopped talking about it. Let him be a man of mystery. It hurt less than the pity.

_Please don't turn your back_

John was ignoring his calls, Dean just knew it. He’d never go this long without leaving a message, no matter how intense of a case he was in the middle. Not when Dean needed to talk about his own case.

_I can't believe it's hard just to talk to you_

“Please Dad, I really need your help on this one,” Dean pleaded into the phone. “I’m sorry I fucked up, but you have to call me back. Bobby said you’d know how to stop this thing. Please.”

_But you don't understand_

John had finally shown up, but he’d been even colder than usual. He’d helped take care of the monster, but wouldn’t answer any of Dean’s questions. He wouldn’t even look his son in the eye.

_'Cause we lost it all_  
_Nothin' lasts forever_  
_I'm sorry I can't be perfect_

The hospital walls were a painfully sharp white when Dean woke up. He knew something important had happened but he couldn’t remember what. The car crash started coming back to him. That must be it. Right?

_Now it's just too late_  
_And we can't go back_  
_I'm sorry I can't be perfect_

Doctors and nurses and just too many people were rushing around. The noises were deafening, but Dean barely noticed. His dad was… John Winchester was… he couldn’t be...

It was a crossroads deal, Sam had been sure of it. Dean had been a half step away from death himself, yet made a ‘miraculous’ recovery. Then suddenly, John dies. It couldn’t be a coincidence. He didn’t get ten years, but maybe for a life you didn’t get as long.

Machines made noise and people made noise and Dean Winchester was numb.

_'Cause we lost it all_  
_Nothin' lasts forever_  
_I'm sorry I can't be perfect_

It had taken a lot more effort than they’d expected to get John’s body released to anybody other than a funeral home, but Bobby had managed to pull off the impossible. John Winchester deserved a hunter's funeral, and since it was the last thing he’d ever do for his father, Dean was going to do everything in his power to make it happen.

_Now it's just too late_  
_And we can't go back_  
_I'm sorry I can't be perfect_

“Sorry I wasn’t perfect,” Dean said softly as the flames rose higher. He’d failed John, so many times. He’d been such a huge disappointment. He could never make it up to him now.

“You were, though,” the voice from behind Dean startled him. Sam walked up and stood next to him. “You were incredible in every way, and he was too blind to see it,” Sam continued. “If he could’ve seen how things really were instead of the bullshit his brain fed him, he’d have been proud.”

“You think?” Dean said, wondering maybe Sam was right.

“I’m proud, Bobby’s proud, everybody else is proud of you Dean. He was the only one who wasn’t, so yeah, most likely.”

“Thanks,” Dean said, pulling his puppy of a brother into a hug. He was willing to forgive the chick flick moment, just this once. He’d earned it.


End file.
